


i don't like your boyfriend

by antidons (Pogniscrow)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Doyoung is just T I R E D, M/M, Mark just hates doyoung, Taeyong is soft, donghyuck is better than anyone else in this fic, kitten soft, like so soft, mark pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-21 23:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14295780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pogniscrow/pseuds/antidons
Summary: “Did he look like the cutest thing alive but sounded like he sleeps next to satan?” Mark nods without question.Taeyong smiles at him the way he does to stray kittens on the streets.“I see you’ve met Doyoung.”





	i don't like your boyfriend

**Author's Note:**

> To Ms, Patrimonio Dayang-Dayang, thanks a whole lot. You've been nothing short of a blessing.

When Mark opens the door of his cousin’s apartment to greet a man with black ruffled hair and eyes that would have looked breathtaking if the man were not scowling. He doesn’t know what to do. Big eyes land on Mark and the scowl turns into furrow. “Who are you?” he asks without much care for pleasantries. Immediately, Mark notices the deep eyebags and the fine lines that stretch out, barely covered by his lashes.

 

Mark stutters because though the man looks like he has the features of a nice person, he seems anything but. “M-Mark, Taeyong’s cousin.” He’s not by any means easily intimidated, but Mark feels two seconds away from getting spit on.

 

“Is he in there?” Mark does a double take looking behind him, “You mean Taeyong?”

 

Mark actually _feels_ the patience seep out of the man’s being the moment he utters the question. “No, I was talking about your mother. I would like to formally introduce myself to her.” Mark, on any other day, would have tasted, _savoured_ , the obvious sarcasm dripping out of the guy’s mouth but today’s not been his best.

 

“My mother’s not here though.”

 

There’s a beat of silence in which Mark questions the existence of his brain and the stranger undergoes the crisis of choosing to laugh or hit Mark over the head. He chooses subtle in between.

 

“Well, I can at least confirm that you and Taeyong are related,” he says before running his hand through his hair in frustration. “Look kid, tell your deadbeat cousin that he should get his nonexistent ass to the studio right now unless he wants me to make it even more nonexistent.” With that he walks away, leaving a very confused Mark in his wake.

 

When Mark  tells Taeyong after he comes back from the store, all his cousins asks is, “Did he look like the cutest thing alive but sounded like he sleeps next to satan?” Mark nods without question.

 

Taeyong smiles at him the way he does to stray kittens on the streets.

 

“I see you’ve met Doyoung.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Mark asked Taeyong if he could stay with him for the summer for his internship, his cousin was all smiles and enthusiasm, telling him that it would be like when they were younger. He even gushed about introducing Mark to all of his friends, his boyfriend a specification in all the names he listed. Doyoung his name.

 

It’s been a few days since he’s met Doyoung, and he did not want to meet him again.

 

“He sounded like he hates the very existence of your soul,” Mark whined after finding out that Doyoung, the sound engineer grad student, was the very rude man at the door. Mark feels uneasy about him. Though Taeyong’s older, Mark always felt like he had to protect from his own feelings. Taeyong has a knack of getting carried away in emotion, which often lead to suffocating affection that not everyone was comfortable with--case and point all of his high school relationships. Taeyong was always too intense, too loving, too much. Mark’s seen the aftermath of his cousin giving the very extent of his love to people undeserving of it. Taeyong may look like an emotionally constipated douchebag, but he’s quite the opposite.

 

Taeyong only chuckled in response “You just need to spend more time with him. He’s like a diesel engine. He’s better long term.”

 

Mark pointedly ignores Taeyong’s advice and his horrible metaphor about car fuel.

 

* * *

 

 

He’s alone in the apartment once again when the door opens. Expecting his cousin, he doesn’t get up from his position, shouting a hey hyung  the door, but when he hears the distinct tinge of distaste in the “is that how you talk to all your elders?” that answers back, Mark shoots up.  

 

“You.” He says pointing at Doyoung’s offending figure at the door. “Me,” Doyoung rebutts with a subtle shake of his head. Doyoung skips pleasantries, stalking down the hall into Taeyong’s room and plopping himself on the bed.

 

“Hey! Clean yourself before getting on his bed!” Mark but squeals at the man. Calling Taeyong a clean freak would be the understatement of the millennium and seeing this guy unceremoniously sinking himself into the newly pressed sheets his cousin probably took thirty minutes fixing feels like a capital offense.

 

“Taeyong’s cleaning my apartment, he told me to hang here for the meantime, so you can just ignore my existence for the next few hours.”

 

Mark feels his nerves tense at him and storms out of the room without another word. Doyoung is older than him and his cousin’s cherished  boyfriend so he can’t just maul him to the ground, his mother taught him better than that. He also does not want to try his hand at Doyoung’s anger. Mark will never admit it out loud, but he feels like Doyoung possesses some aberrant power hiding beneath his large, probing eyes. So he does what any concerned cousin would do in this situation, he calls Taeyong.

 

“Hyung.”

 

“What’s up?

 

“Are you really cleaning Doyoung’s apartment?

 

“Yeah. Just let him stay in bed, he’s tired.”

 

Mark pauses, and thinks about his response. He’s curious, but he also wants to respect his cousin’s decision, even if he strongly disagrees with it.

 

“Hyung, why are you cleaning up his apartment?

 

Taeyong pauses, as if calculating the next few words that come out of his mouth, “I owe him.” His cousin sounds guilty over the phone and Mark can’t even attempt to decipher how one could ever feel any guilt for a person like Doyoung. However, he leaves the doubts for a later time, as Taeyong seems resolute with his decision. Mark respects the elder’s wishes and drops the call.

 

He heads over to Taeyong’s room and finds Doyoung sound asleep under Taeyong’s quilt, his pants and shirt hung neatly by the door and his shoes tucked at the foot of the bed. He notices that Doyoung is now sporting a yellow tank top that Mark very well knows is his cousin’s. He bites his bottom lip and turns off the light before shutting the door thinking that maybe Doyoung wasn’t all that bad.

 

Later when Taeyong arrives from Doyoung’s, tired but satisfied, he takes a shower,  not even bothering with dinner or Mark, before opening the door to his room and shutting it quietly. Mark tries not to think too much about it.  

 

The next day Mark wakes up to a lively argument in the kitchen. He trudges out of his room to find Taeyong’s face pinned to the kitchen counter, Doyoung’s hand latching  tightly on his neck.

 

“We’re eating pancakes,” he all about hisses into Taeyong’s ear.  

 

There’s a weird gurgling noise that he  guesses is Taeyong attempting to bite back. Mark, too groggy to function, just settles into a chair by the dining table while watching his cousin attempt to pry out of Doyoung’s grasp.

 

“If you say waffles are superior again I’m going to chokeslam you to the second floor.”

 

Taeyong mangages to get his mouth off the counter, “Well, you’re opinion is shit. I want waffles!” There’s a ruckus that Mark fazes out of his mind as he settles his head on the dining table. When he wakes up from his morning nap there’s a plate with a waffle and a pancake accompanied by a note from Taeyong.

 

_We couldn’t decide between the two, so here’s the superior breakfast item and its flacid cousin that Doyoung loves for some reason._

_-TY_

 

* * *

 

 

He forgets all about Doyoung the next few days, pooling all his effort into his internship requirements. The tides of day-to-day routine washes the distasteful memory of Doyoung from his mind, leaving Mark with seeming state of calm. A week later, Taeyong finally finds the opportunity to introduce Mark to all his friends, inviting them all over for dinner and drinks. In the middle of piling bottles of soju and beer, caught in the wayward conversations of work, friends, and childhood, the the topic of Doyoung comes up.

 

It’s Jaehhyun or Jeffery or whatever his name is, that dares to say his name.

 

“Where’s Doyoung?” he says taking a sip of his beer. Taeyong, ever in love with his (diabolical) boyfriend, pouts, “He’s got another late night at the studio.” Johnny, the tall one with the thick american accent, pats Taeyong on the shoulder, “when’s the last time you guys met up?”

 

“Last week,” he says eyes looking sullen all of a sudden, “he’s been cooped up in the studio all this week. I only know he’s still alive because he calls me.” The rest of the group seems to be used to this type of behavior by the way they just pat Taeyong on the back.

 

“Um, what does he do exactly in the studio?” Mark finds himself asking in the middle of the odd Taeyong prayer circle his friends have made among themselves.

 

“He’s producing an album” Taeyong says with the warmest smile, “He’s in the final stages so it’s just been nonstop work for him.”

 

Mark nods as he takes a sip of his beer. The conversation moves on, the name forgotten like the empty bottles littering the floor. Taeyong, true to character cleans the mess, that is until his phone starts ringing. Mark watches as his cousin’s impassive face turns absolutely ecstatic the moment he sees the caller ID. Taeyong excuses himself and walks out the balcony where he accepts the call. Mark doesn’t have to wonder who he’s talking to, and judging by everyone's knowing glances, neither do they.  

 

Mark’s seen this scenario before. The avoidance. The sudden need for space. It’s telltale signs of Taeyong’s partner feeling “suffocated.” He knows that Taeyong would never admit to it, but surely his friends would know something about Doyoung’s evasive behaviour.

 

“I have a question,” Mark blurts out looking at the others in the room, “it’s about Doyoung.”

 

“What about him?” Johnny asks.

 

There’s a million and one questions buzzing through Mark’s head, but above the din of whys and hows, there stands his most pressing concern.

 

“Why are he and Taeyong together?”

 

The room falls quiet before they start chorusing in laughter.  Mark feels somewhat offended at their reaction, “Hey, I’m serious.”

 

“Taeyong hated Doyoung when he first met him,” Jaehyun says between snickers, “he hated him for god knows how long before suddenly they’re hanging out and going on weird adventures at two in the morning. It was an odd transition, but right now I can’t see Taeyong with anyone else.” The rest of the room hums in agreement, their heads bobbing as if in synch.

 

“I remember how they got together. It was in the campus courtyard, Taeyong literally just scolded Doyoung and told him they were going to be boyfriends,” Taeil, the oldest of them, and the one that looks the most put together chimes.

  
Mark expected more from him.  He still feels flabbergasted at the revelation and shakes his head in disbelief, “Why did he hate him, initially?”

 

“I don’t know if you’ve met him, but Doyoung can sound rude,” Jaehyun says eyeing Mark. One glance at Mark’s scowl told him all that he needed, “Yeah, he can sound like the biggest dick in the world, and Taeyong being an all-around nice person did not like this.” Johnny snickers from the side, “I remember when Taeyong first confronted him about it, called him a dickwad. Doyoung just rolled his eyes, didn’t even give him the light of day.”

 

Mark lets out a bitter laugh as he shakes his head. The situation sounded too familiar. Seeing the exaggerated huff from the youngest in their group, Jaehyung pats his head comfortingly, “Looks like you had a similar first encounter.”

 

Mark shrugs in reply, “you could say that.”

 

“It annoyed Taeyong a lot. This says a lot ‘cause the boy never gets mad, ever. But for some weird reason Doyoung got under skin. We don’t actually know what changed between them, but one moment Taeyong hates the very air he breathes, then the next thing you know he’s inhaling even the dust that touches Doyoung’s skin. Next thing we know Taeyong and Doyoung are walking down the street holding hands,” Johnny explains as he leans deeper into the couch.

 

“I’ll admit I was wary at the beginning, but Doyoung has a big heart. That’s why Taeyong’s so taken by him.”

 

Mark chokes on a bit of the beer he’s drinking. He never thought he’d hear Doyoung and big heart in the same sentence unless there was a “likes destroying” in between.

 

“You guys should seriously reevaluate your values.” Mark says after violently coughing out the beer that caught in the back of his throat, “You aren’t worthy of calling yourselves Taeyong’s best friends.” This earns him another round of laughter.  Johnny stops long enough to fix Mark a smirk, “Well you’re right. None of us can really call ourselves Taeyong’s best friend.”

 

“That title is reserved for the guy on the other line of that phone call." Mark looks to the balcony. Taeyong slightly shivers to the night's cold, but he seems unbothered by it, if the tender smile stretching across his face is any indication.  

 

Mark shakes his head and decides that Taeyong has shit friends.

 

* * *

 

The next week Mark doesn’t see Doyoung, much to his delight. The same cannot be said for his cousin. Doyoung has camped in his studio all throughout the week which meant that a Doyoungless-Mark also meant  Doyoungless-Taeyong. Mark likes this Taeyong a little less than the normal one.

 

Throughout the extended period without his boyfriend, Taeyong has grew more irritable and despondent. Dinners found Taeyong rushing through his food before holing himself in his room.  Mark felt a crinkle of satisfaction at seeing his cousin silently suffer without his boyfriend around. In any normal circumstance, Mark would have tried to lift Taeyong’s spirits, but maybe longing could morph into resentment, and maybe this elongated break could turn into a full blown divorce. Mark could only wish that Doyoung stays gone.

 

On the fifth day of their abstinence from Doyoung, Mark sees Taeyong pathetically hiding the longing embossed on his face. Mark takes pity and contemplates telling him that everything would be alright, but he can’t will himself to, so he keeps mum and lets his cousin grumble his way through the day. It’s clear that Taeyong is not used to spending so much time away from Doyoung, it’s like this with all  his relationships.

 

Taeyong’s a creature of proximity. Despite his sharp features and easily mistaken apathy, he craves touch and affection, especially from his partner. Mark knows this, he knows his cousin loves in excess. He also knows the beginnings of the cycle of the end. First is the distance, then the need for independence, then, ultimately, a close to another chapter of Taeyong’s failed relationships. Mark hopes that he can wait for Doyoung to just evaporate from his plane of existence and things would be better for everyone.  

 

He’s used to the routine, but something’s off. Usually, the space is accompanied by silence that pushes Taeyong over the edge until he’s marching up to someone’s house and demanding for attention. They’ll discover that they’re better off without Taeyong and leave him without much fanfare. He’ll be alone, sulky, and Mark will be left to pick up the pieces of his cousin’s damaged heart. But right now, there is no silence to speak of.

 

He doesn’t see Doyoung, but he feels him. His touch lingering on the edges of Taeyong’s skin, his scent dancing at the swells of his cousin’s body, the remnants of his voice still echoing, blaringly, around the corners of Taeyong’s reddened ears. Through the distance he can still feel the imposing presence of Kim Doyoung and it does not sit well with him.

 

Sure, Doyoung could be sweet. Mark’s not blind to the sweaters that his cousin starts wearing, even though they were clearly not tailored to fit his scrawny body. He also sees the packed meals that Taeyong would bring home sometimes, the tupperware marked with a sticker of a rabbit. Taeyong, in his prolonged agony, does not seem all that hysterical. He still sulks and glowers and groans, but his longing doesn’t feel volatile. Rather than waiting for the uncertainty to end, Taeyong waits for a chance to breathe again. He knows that his torture will end, that Doyoung will once again be part of his life in perpetua, and it does many confusing things to Mark.

 

Despite how much he hates Doyoung, despite how much he despises his very existence on this good green earth, he still can not deny that he’d accomplished something not even Mark was able to pull off. He taught Taeyong the value of space.  

 

On the sixth day, he finds Doyoung sprawled on the couch. Two empty tupperwares with a bunny sticker on it sit on the table. Mark finds Taeyong in the kitchen with the biggest smiles on his face as he prepares dinner.

 

“What’s dumbface doing here.”

 

Taeyong doesn’t turn around as he continues stirring the stew he’s preparing. “You’re only saying that because he’s asleep.”

 

Mark stills and ignores the happiness overflowing from his cousin’s voice, “I thought he was stuck in his studio.”

 

“Yeah, he only dropped by for a bit before he needs to get back. I’m just making him some dinner before he goes back.”

 

He may have not know Doyoung to make an accurate character evaluation, but every time Mark had the displeasure of seeing him, he was either insulting Mark or sleeping. All while Taeyong slaved on some menial housework that he really shouldn’t have been doing in the first place. It hits a nerve. Mark suppresses the urge to tell his cousin how pathetic he looked. That Doyoung shouldn’t treat him like his personal butler just because he’s too asinine to function.

 

“Why do you keep on doing things for him?” Mark asks instead.

 

Taeyong, “I just want to.”

 

Mark rolls his eyes, “I know you do. You do this with all of them.” He doesn’t intend to sound so bitter, but his patience was running thin and Doyoung sleeping on the couch like he owned it really wasn’t helping.

 

“I know you don’t like Doyoung that much, and I get why, but I don’t need your attitude right now,” Taeyong huffs covering the stew with a lid. The kitchen looks like it hasn’t been used to make stew and ban chan, even though Mark knows that Taeyong’s done so much worse. That’s Taeyong for you, cold, clean and precise. He works like a machine hell bent on keeping even the most turbulent catastrophe in order, that’s just how he is. But God somehow forgot to sprinkle some of this organization skills into Taeyong’s relationships--a ongoing saga of convoluted feelings and soiled emotions.

 

“I’m just looking out for you. He’s gonna end up hurting you and I don’t want to be at the other end of that anymore.” Mark lets out in pure frustration. He’s had quite enough of Taeyong and his constant need to defend his boyfriend. This will end up in another ugly mess of tears and heartache Mark knows it. He’s merely taking preventive measures.

 

Taeyong’s not facing him, but he can see the tension rising through the arc of his back to the bottom of his nape. All his life Mark has never actually seen Taeyong angry. He’s seen him pissed when things were in disarray, or ticked off when Mark caught him at the wrong time, but by the looks of just Taeyong’s posture, he can see the rage bubbling beneath his cousin’s skin.

 

When Taeyong turns to face Mark, his eyes are distant and his jaw is drawn tight, “Mark, I need you to step out of this apartment for the next few hours,” he says avoiding his cousin’s gaze. Taeyong is looking into the distance as if the very sight of Mark made him want to gut himself with his own hands.

 

“B-bu--”

 

Taeyong halts him with a palm to his face. He takes a belabored breath, deep and long, before he tersely, almost in a whisper, says, “get out.”

 

Mark feels the words like claws scraping across his chest. Without another word he turns away and stalks out of the kitchen. He enters the living room to find Doyoung sitting on the couch bleary-eyed, hair ruffled from sleep and face still a bit swollen. He casts Mark a cursory, his eyes scrunching in confusion as he eyes the other person in the room.

 

He feels all the frustration he’s been hunkering around all these weeks explode. He wants to punch Doyoung’s stupid face, maul it into the ground, lacerate it with a dull blade until it bleeds black and crimson. His jaw shakes and his hands curl into fists, but he hears the gentle footsteps of his cousin approaching from the kitchen so he takes all his anger and channels it into slamming the door shut.

 

He walks until he’s in a park with the lonely swing and no children. He arrives just before sunset, the place is barren save for the few high school students enjoying liberation from the dreary halls of school. He settles by the swing, his feet swirling the dust from dry patch made by the feet of all the children taking flight. He takes out his phone and dials the first person that comes to mind. The first attempt goes unanswered, but he knows as well as anyone that during the height of summer, Donghyuck takes a nap. But he’s a light sleeper so the next call gets answered after the fifth ring.

 

“Do you hate me?” comes his best friend’s gravelly voice still riddled with sleep.

 

“I’m going through a crisis?”

 

“Is it your gay awakening? About fucking time.”

 

Mark groans into the phone and rolls his eyes. He’s used to it, Donghyucks’s his best friend for as long as he can remember, whatever comes out of his mouth doesn’t faze him anymore. He’s also wanted Mark to come out as gay so that they could be the gayest best friends, because, as Donghyuck says “there’s enough hetero in this godforsaken town.” Mark doesn’t really see anything of it, mostly because he sees the fleeting allure of both men and women, but he has never really _felt_ anything that he can sufficiently describe as genuine attraction. Donghyuck doesn’t buy it, claims boobs and tits weren’t made for people like him and Mark.  

 

“It’s not. It’s about my cousin’s boyfriend.”

 

There’s short pause from the other line before Donghyuck is back, “I mean I’m quite sad that your gay awakening isn’t because of me, but I’m here for whatever this raunchy romance entails.”

 

“It’s not that!”

 

“Mark, I’m not one to judge. Forbidden love is hot dude. My daily prayers to Mariah Carey, Hyuna and Sunmi have finally worked and in such fantastic fashion. I expect nothing less from my gay goddesses.” Mark wants to stop him from blabbing on, but he knows that when Donghyuck goes off, he _goes off_. “Today marks a momentous occasion in your formerly hetero life. Today you are no longer merely Mark Lee. Today you are Mark Lee, a gay.”

 

Mark waits for five seconds before he responds, “Are you just about finished?” the blaring sound of   _I’m Coming Out_ answers him, “This is a cause for celebration my friend. You have traversed the barren lands of titties and horribly masked homophobia to finally come out tops. Mark Lee has found his spring awakening, his transfiguration into a higher, more fabulous state of being. Mark has ascended into the hallowed land of gayhood. Welcome, brother.”

 

“How long have you had this speech prepared?”

 

“Since yesterday. It’s really boring when you’re not here. You don’t even call me because you’re too preoccupied pining for an older man. I mean I fully understand, I’ve sneaked some glances at Professor Oh from time to time, he has a nice ass. Very plump.”

 

“DONGHYUCK!”

 

“Calm your tits man, I’m just admiring the man’s superior posterior. No harm in that. But enough about me, pray tell of your Christian Grey, if that is your kink, I mean. Always remember that nothing’s as sexy as consent.”

 

Mark’s almost forgotten how much Donghyuck talked. It felt like he’s venting all the annoying things he wanted to tell Mark during the period wherein they haven’t talked. He feels a bit guilty, he used to talk to Donghyuck every day, but his internship and his growing concern with Doyoung has really taken a toll on him.

 

“Okay, I think I’m done for now,” Donghyuck says, “Now spill.”

 

Just like that Mark feels the anger come out again. He recounts the first meeting, the second, and the third. He recounts  the distance, the pining, the longing, and the blow up. He talks of the frustrations, the bitterness, and the rage. Mark tells Donghyuck all about the menace that is Kim Doyoung, hoping that he can pull himself to move on.

 

When he finishes, the sun has fully set and he’s alone with the stars and a lone lamp post. Donghyuck hasn’t said anything throughout Mark’s narration, only hums and uh-huhs to remind Mark that he was listening and had not left him to read more interesting things, like the bible.

 

“Wow, you’ve reached peak ass.”

 

He never really thought Donghyuck would side with him a hundred percent, that’s just him. Donghyuck played devil’s advocate to Mark’s holier than thou attitude, and for the most part it works, they work. However, in their long friendship, Donghyuck has never so vehemently refused Mark’s stance.  

 

“I know you have this really bad messianic complex, and I understand all that shit, but you’ve taken it just a step too far,” Donghyuck huffs from the other line.  “Honestly, did you forget to take your brain to wherever the fuck you are or something?” Mark would never accept this from any normal person, but Donghyuck’s practically psychoanalyzed every fiber of his being at this point. If he’s saying that Mark’s acting like the very embodiment of an entitled prick, he probably is.

 

“Shit.”

 

“Yeah, shit is the right word to describe your crusty ass. Jesus, Mark did you at any point consider that maybe Doyoung is actually just working? You said it yourself, Taeyong seems different now, like he’s learned to respect the distance. Isn’t that an indication that Doyoung’s done something right? That maybe because you’re a loser who hasn’t found another person to genuinely love because you haven’t gotten through your big gay awakening yet, you don’t have the credentials to judge this situation. That maybe you’re a bystander in this entire scheme of things--that you’re not _involved_.” he says emphasizing his final point.

 

“Stop trying to play savior of the afflicted, you’re just embarrassing yourself.”

 

Donghyuck quiets after that, his breath a bit labored from all the talking he’s done in such a short amount of time. “I-I never thought of it that way,” Mark says burying his face into his free palm, “I was blinded by frustration.”

 

“No shit.”

 

“What do I do now?”

 

“Apologize to Taeyong and Doyoung? Finally admit that you’re actually an idiot? Maybe go through your gay awakening?”

 

“Hyuck.”

 

“It was just a suggestion.”

 

Mark laughs into the phone, “Thank you.”

 

“Whatever.” he snickers, the soft echo of his voice tangling through Mark’s ear. “Just fix it.”

 

When Mark gets home, Taeyong is already in his room. He tries to go in, but his cousin has locked the door. Apologies would have to wait it seems, he thinks that maybe he’ll get the chance in the morning.

 

He doesn’t. Neither does he get the chance the morning after or the morning after that.  

 

Taeyong has made it his goal in life to completely avoid Mark. He leaves at the crack of dawn and comes back in the early afternoon to cook dinner before locking himself in his room. Mark has half the mind to just ram Taeyong’s door and apologize, but his internship is really gnawing at his time so can’t find it in himself to muster enough mental fortitude to go through an emotional breakdown with his cousin. The next few days sees them degrade from best friends to practical strangers. Sometimes Mark hears soft murmurs from Taeyong’s room,  it’s lurid and tender it makes the corners of Mark lips sink in pangs of longing. He promises to fix everything come the weekend.

 

* * *

 

The weekend finally comes and instead of convincing his cousin to finally forgive him, he’s at a bar with people from the office. They’ve just finished all the reports that’s been eating at their sanity this entire week and so a night of drunken debauchery is called for. As much as Mark wanted to get out of the office and bow at Taeyong’s feet, he couldn’t really deny his team. He’s a softie however you want look at it.  

 

Plan was go through two drinks and scram, but random guy with the Jagger had different ideas. So by some miracle of misfortune Mark finds himself grinding on a lamp post to the music of 3 AM traffic. He doesn’t know where he is and he has completely lost track of his officemates after the fifth shot of vodka or tequila or whatever burned the back of his throat in that club from two margaritas ago. He’s about to do another rad dance move on the lamp post when someone yanks him from behind. He turns around and squints at the group of five handsome men standing in front of him.

 

“Who are all of you?” he slurs into the general direction of his friends? Acquaintances? Assailants?

 

“Are you calling me fat?” are the words that come out of one of the men’s mouth.

 

“Huh? All of you are skinny though?” he says looking into the group of men in front of him. One of them has silken black hair that falls down to the tip of his nape and long, angular face with a chin that juts out prominently and a set of teeth that would have been blinding if it not for the horrible lighting. The next one…actually the next one looks vaguely like the first one; they must be related. The next one also has, the one holding him also has very strikingly similar features, it’s almost as if they were one person.

 

Oh?

 

“You’re not five people? You’re just one!” he shouts as he hugs the stranger, “Wow, you’re really good at making illusions. Kinda like that ninja dude Taeyong used to watch.”

 

The man doesn’t respond, dragging Mark by the hand into the closest coffee shop available and drops him on a lounge chair. Mark’s tired eyes follow his new acquaintance as he offers  him a glass of water and settles himself across him.

 

Mark sniffs the cup and shakes his head, “I don’t want vodka!” The man shushes him and pushes him into the seat.

 

“It’s water. Drink it up, Mark.”

 

Mark doesn’t really know the person, but he has a nice face, so probably wouldn’t hurt him when he’s drunk.

 

“I lost my phone,” he says after taking a gulp, “How do you know my name?”

 

“Oh shit, um I’m Yuta, I’m a friend of Doyoung.”

 

He hasn’t heard the name in so long that he’s forgotten how much emotion it elicited out of him. The root of all his woes, and the piece that could solve it. Hearing those two syllables snaps Mark into some semblance of sobriety.

 

“Doyoung?”

 

“Yeah, he asked me to look for you. Says your cousin is on the brink of hiring private investigators, but everything’s  good now. Doyoung’s on his way.”

 

Mark stands up abruptly, spilling the water all over himself as Yuta jumps out of the splash zone. He quickly gets up and sits Mark down again, taking the cup from his hand and grabbing some tissue from the neighbouring table. Mark feels his head spin at the image of Doyoung and Taeyong and the mess he’s made. He feels the world shudder from beneath him, like he’s being pulled into a vortex forming from within his gut. He can hear voices, one he can tell is Yuta’s and a new one, a familiar one. There’s an exchange then he hears his name, he hears his name and he feels the swirling get wilder and wilder. Then black.

 

* * *

 

 

Mark’s never gotten drunk in his life. He’s had this three drink quota that he made with his mother when he turned 18 and hasn’t broken it. People have often wondered how much Mark hated himself or loved his mother to actually go through with the quota for so long, but they don’t know that a  Christian mother’s guilt is a superpower that only god himself can combat. So his first romp as a miscreant gone wild comes a surprise to everyone, Mark especially.

 

When he wakes up to the thundering of his head in a room he does not recognize, he panics.  He bolts up only for his head to start throbbing. He ducks back into the bed and looks around the room, as he massages the temples of his head.  He lies on queen-sized bed in a room painted in deep turquoise. There are awards that hang off one side of the wall and a lamp beside the bed, he instinctively reaches for it and switches it on. Soft, amber light envelopes the room. Mark blinks through the haze sees a picture frame glinting next to the lamp. He peers closer  and finds his cousin smiling back at him. There, framed in gold is Lee Taeyong’s smiling face. He doesn’t know where it is or when it was taken, but he knows that smile, it’s the one Taeyong gives to stray kittens he finds on the side of the road, except brighter, more endearing--more in love.

 

Mark then remembers.

 

He groans as he recalls his unfortunate blackout in the middle of a cafe in front of Doyoung’s friend. He tries to find his bearings until he realizes that there’s something else that sits on the table next to his cousin’s picture: a glass of water and aspirin. Mark feels his head throb louder and his heart sink—he doesn’t think it’s from the hangover.

 

He finds his way out of the room and into the living room. There, he finds Doyoung on the couch and, to his surprise, Taeyong snoozing on his lap enveloped by the soft light from the light stand. Doyoung is absentmindedly stroking Taeyong’s hair as he starts lulling to sleep. Mark can only stare at the two in genuine awe. Tender and delicate were two words Mark never thought of associating with the man in front of him, but here he is stroking his cousin’s head with the tenderest of touches. Doyoung himself looks half-asleep, if the gentle sway of his head is any indication. Mark, not wanting to interrupt attempts to sneak back into the room, however he does not account for his foot thudding so harshly on the carpet, which effectively jolts Doyoung out of his slumber. His eyes are bloodshot and a bit glassy from exhaustion, but the look he gives Mark is undoubtedly stern.

 

Mark freezes on the spot, his hangover and the tensions in the air not helping him in the slightest. He stares into Doyoung’s eyes and sees many things. First is distaste. Mark can’t really blame him, nor can he say that he’s not used to it already. The second thing he notices is fatigue. Doyoung’s eye bags sag and pulse in dull grey, with wretched wrinkles stretching across his tired face. Third, and the most important, Mark sees disappointment.

 

He starts, like all his exchanges with Mark, with an exasperated exhale, “I know you hate me, but do you really have to take it out on your cousin?”

 

Mark ducks his face, unable to look Doyoung straight in the eye, “I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I didn’t mean to get drunk, I didn’t mean to. Honest!” Mark rambles, not even giving Doyoung to interject, “To be honest, I only drink three drinks at the maximum, I promised my mom, but I’ve been stressed with my internship and everything between me and Taeyong…” he gulps, “...and y-you.”

 

“Wait, is this the first time you’ve gotten drunk?” Doyoung asks with slight surprise. Mark nods meekly.

 

“I know you like hate every fiber of my being or something to that extent, but don’t take out all your hatred on your cousin. Look, I told Taeyong I didn’t want to meet you yet because I’m not the most pleasant when I’m tired but he insisted and now we’re here. In any other circumstance, I’d just let you fuck off into another dimension, but Taeyong really treasures you, so I’ll make the extra effort,” he says pointing to the armchair directly in front of him.

 

Mark gingerly dawdles into the armchair, Doyoung’s eyes following him with slight amusement, “Did you take the the aspirin I left?”

 

Mark really can’t tell what is hurting him more right now, the pulsating in his head or Doyoung’s kindness. Mark’s used to the guy despising the very air he breathes and now his sworn enemy is treating him like lika a long lost childhood friend. It doesn’t make sense.

 

“Why are you so nice?” Mark asks, “You hate me, I feel it whenever I so much as breathe in the same room. You hate me. You hate me.”

 

“I told you I don’t hate you. You just caught me at the wrong time.”

 

“That’s what Taeyong said.” Doyoung rolls his eyes and pats Taeyong’s cheek, “I told him not do it, but he insisted. Idiot.” When Doyoung says idiot, it feels fond? It lacks bite and snark, it tastes like sweet nothings and, oddly, tenderness. It doesn’t sound like the Doyoung he’s used to hearing, “I finally finished the album and my adviser seems to really like it, so I’ve finally gotten proper sleep”

 

Mark remains caught in flux.

 

“I’m used to it though, especially from your cousin. I don’t know if you know, but Taeyong hated me as much as you, if not more.”

 

“I know, his friends told me,” Mark says flushing in embarrassment. Doyoung is slowly destroying every predisposition Mark’s had of him and in such efficient fashion, that his mind cannot fully wrap itself around where he’s ended up.

 

“They also said that you were his best friend,” Mark adds hastily. He feels the need to reiterate this, that maybe Doyoung doesn’t know about it. That for some odd reason, Mark thinks that he doesn’t know that Taeyong appreciate him that much, even though his actions tell of the polar opposite.

 

Doyoung laughs, amused. “Please proceed, I like it when people stroke my ego.” Mark pouts in response which sends Doyoung into a another fit of giggles, “I think I know why Taeyong likes you so much. You’re very cute. Especially when you’re embarrassed.”

 

“Aren’t you mad at me? I feel like I got off the hook so easily,” Mark says tangling his fingers together in confusion.

 

Doyoung scrunches his face in disgust, “Ew, dude. What kind of screwed up world do you live in? We left the eye for an eye thing in the Dark Ages. You did a bad, you apologized--and you meant it. I don’t see why we can’t move on.” Doyoung responds, absentmindedly stroking Taeyong’s hair like an indulgence rather than a task, “You’ll make mistakes, like accepting those shots from people you’ve never met until that night, and barfing on Yuta, but I have to admit barfing on Yuta was the cherry on top of this night’s festivities. But I do  slightly resent you for making Taeyong screech like a banshee. That shit was not pleasant.”

 

Mark groans, his cousin, for all his stoicism and shyness, is a worrier. Scratch that, he’s a paranoid mother who goes through ten panic attacks a day. It’s not that Taeyong becomes useless when potential danger arises, rather he goes the consolidated effort to cover even the most absurd of scenarios. Mark knows first hand. He still remembers when Taeyong managed to organize a two-mile perimeter search for a ten-year old Mark’s lost cat that they eventually found behind the washing machine down in the basement.

 

“I’m sorry. I know he gets _too much_.” Doyoung makes a show of trying to smack Taeyong in the face, “When I told him that I managed to tuck you into my bed, he came straight away. Poor guy wouldn’t stop bawling and apologizing. Wiped himself out from all the tears.”

 

Mark manages a smile thinking about a flustered, worried Taeyong coming into Doyoung’s apartment like he’d just found the son he lost ten years ago.

 

“Thank you for finding me and getting me here. You’re a real lifesaver.”

 

“You should thank Yuta and probably apologize to him too. I didn’t really want to scour the metro for your drunk ass so I asked Yuta to track you.”

 

“What!?”

 

“Don’t ask, Yuta does some shady shit. It’s best that we don’t know. I mean, he found your phone, but thankfully you were just outside grinding against a lamp post.”

 

Mark flushes and ducks his head, “You have weird friends.”

 

“Yes, that I do.”

 

Doyoung and Mark settle into an amicable silence. Mark rests his head on the armchair and Doyoung slumps onto the couch. Mark feels, for the first time in weeks, at ease. He feels like he’s learned much more about himself, about his cousin, and about the man who he fell in love.

 

“Taeyong loves you a lot,” Mark utters after an elongated period of silence. When he thinks Doyoung’s finally slipped into sleep. “I doubted it at first. No.. I didn’t want to believe it. I’ve seen him with many people, but it’s different with you. You changed him and he loves you for doing that and so much more. I may not hear it, but I see it.” Mark lets out a relieved sigh. It’s his atonement for all the bad he’s caused Doyoung and Taeyong, that for any animosity or tension that he’d introduced into his life, he can try to fix it with love.

 

“Ew.”

 

Mark opens his eyes to find Doyoung staring at him in clear disgust. “Don’t say that shit in front of me Mark, I mean likewise, but ew.”

 

“Did you just respond to my cousin’s profession of love with ‘likewise?’”

 

“Excuse me,  you’re just a proxy, I can respond any way I want. And for your information, Taeyong likes reminding me already, you don’t have to reassure me.”

 

Mark huffs, then straightens up a bit, “Out of curiosity, have you ever told Taeyong that you love him?”

 

In the dull lighting of the living room he sees Doyoung still, “Oh my god. You’ve never told him you love him. You ass!” he says in a hiss.

 

“Shh! It’s a problem we’ve been working on..”

 

“Saying I love you?”

 

“My emotional incompetence.” Mark actually snickers. “Whatever. I have a problem with expressing affection,” Doyoung huffs.

 

Mark may not know everything, but he sure does know that caressing someone’s hair to lull them to sleep is affection. He points towards the hand that’s rested on the top of Taeyong’s head, and Doyoung shakes his head, “It’s not like I don’t show affection, it’s just that I express it differently. Taeyong’s helping me get to a more conventional level, for his sake.”

 

“You really love him,” Mark says with a soft smile. It’s not a stretch, the words are natural and feel right. Doyoung loves Taeyong and nothing could be truer.

 

“Don’t use the L-word. I feel weird.”

 

“Taeyong loves you and you love Taeyong. You two are in love. You two love each other. You are in a state of love,” Mark watches Doyoung’s face phase through varying levels of disgust.

 

Doyoung shakes his head in disbelief, “Go to sleep, kid. It’s late and you still have a hangover to deal with in the morning.” Mark smirks as he rests his head on the armchair, “Doyoung, I know I’m in no place to demand you of anything, but can ask for a favor?”

 

Doyoung grunts.

 

“Can you tell Taeyong that you love him tomorrow. Just once, if you can’t do it for me, do it for him. I’ll be forever indebted.”

 

“I’ll consider it, kid. Now go to sleep.”

 

Mark wakes up to a plate of pancakes, only pancakes, a cup of coffee, aspirin, and a note.

 

_I’m treating Doyoung out for lunch. You stay there and order yourself whatever you want,  I left money on the counter._

 

_Enjoy your breakfast even though I hated mine, sadly Doyoung still really loves pancakes._

_-TY_

 

_P.S._

 

 _But not as much as he loves me._ ****

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I'd enter another ficdom so quickly, but here I am. I seriously just love Doyoung and Taeyong's dynamic, they bicker and fight but beyond that is a really wonderful relationship. They may not show it all the time, but it's clear that they treasure each other (I also feel that Doyoung is allergic to emotions, but that's just me.)
> 
> Anyway, this was supposed to be short and cliche, but it turned out longer but still cliche. Tell me what you think in the comments! This might get a Markhyuck spinoff if I find the time. 
> 
> If y'all want to talk to me or hate me, whatever floats your boat. You can find me on twitter for both [ NCT](https://twitter.com/doyoungsupreme) and [ WANNA ONE](https://twitter.com/jinhwisupreme).


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